Boxed
by Cassiopeia823
Summary: A prequel, side piece to go with Five Years Changes Everything. Wandering around the lab was not the first time Hodgins saw Zack's other best friend
1. His Box

**A/N: Side piece to accompany Five Years Changes Everything. Been niggling in the back of my mind for awhile.**

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The boxes had been there since Zack moved in, stacked in the corner of his above-garage apartment, unopened. And they always spark Hodgins' curiosity; why, out of all the boxes Zack had brought with him to DC, had he not opened those two? And this was one of the questions he liked to plague the younger man with, along with "What the hell's in those things anyways?" And the answer was always the same. Nothing of any importance. And that was how it was for two years, until Hodgins got fed up.

So that was why the boxes had been hauled into the middle of the living room, and opened with the box cutter he'd grabbed as he left the house that Sunday morning. One to a box, they started pulling out the crumpled newspaper and packing peanuts that Hodgins suspected had been Mrs. Addy's doing rather than Zack's. The newspapers were from the year before Zack came to be Brennan's intern and sure enough, the first thing he uncovered was a textbook on advanced, theoretical physics. University stuff—this was Zack's university stuff.

There was a pull-over sweatshirt that was ripped in a few places, and might have had blood on one of the cuffs; notebooks nearly black with Zack's scribbled notes; a boxed set of Tomas Harris' novels; more textbooks; and a jumble of DVDs and paperback books. But it was the book that was tucked into the bottom corner of Hodgins' own box that caught his eye. A leather-bound copy of Milton's _Paradise Lost._ Opening it up, he saw something had been written inside the cover in a loopy scrawl.

"_Zack, hope that you think of me whenever you read this, even if you don't always get it. You don't have to "get" poetry, kinda like me." _

A girl's writing; no name or clue as to who she'd been. Just the words, and a hope that he'd think of her. Who was she? It was on the tip of Hodgins' tongue to ask, but he was stopped as Zack snatched the book from his hands. His jaw was clenched, and brows knitted together in a frown he'd never worn before. 'This is why I didn't want to unpack all this stuff.' He muttered, putting the book aside and out of Hodgins' reach.

Defeated, he turned back to the box, and saw that a picture had been trapped beneath the book of poetry. On the steps of an old limestone building, a group sat grinning. Most of them were older—some almost thirty—but two stood out in the front row, center. A younger Zack was grinning a little uncertainly, and had his arm around the shoulders of a girl about the same age. She was really pretty, and seemed to laugh at the camera in a way that oozed charisma and a vibrant personality. She must have been the giver of the book; an old girlfriend from university.

Seeing the photo himself, Zack tried to grab it too, but this time Hodgins was faster; he held it out of reach and faced his best friend. 'Who is she?'

'No one of any consequence.'

'Bullshit.'

Zack looked at the picture, and shut his eyes as he shook his head slightly. 'She was the best friend I could have asked for in university; she went away to Africa the same year I came to the Jeffersonian.'

If that was all, then why did he look so hurt? Why did he leave the memories of that time packed up in two cardboard boxes for two years, trying to ignore them? Hodgins wanted to ask, but Zack's set expression told him not to. There were places where it was best not to tread. Things that were better off being left alone instead of stirring up all the old feelings and ripping open all the old wounds. The girl probably hadn't meant to hurt Zack, but she had none the less, and this was something that not even his best friend could fix.

Instead, he turned back to the contents of the boxes. 'So what do you want to do with all this stuff?'

'Pack it all up, and put it in the garage, I guess.'

And as Hodgins started throwing everything back into the box, aside from the books and DVDs, he saw Zack take the old picture in his hands, and stare at it for a moment. Letting out a shaky sigh, he closed his eyes, and tore it down the middle, separating himself from his old best friend who had probably forgotten him wherever she was in Africa. Her side of the picture was tossed back into the box, and Zack left Hodgins to finish cleaning up the mess he'd unwittingly made.


	2. Her Box

**A/N: So my one-shot has become a two shot. Couldn't help but show the other side of this. I wanted to put this in Mia's perspective, but it didn't seem right; it had to be Kat's. So enjoy.**

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There were two things Kat disliked about Archeological digs; the dirt embedded itself into your skin, and people lost their sense of boundaries. Which was why Mia was digging through her box of papers and keepsakes from university. She kept the box under her bunk for a reason, but her bunk-mate didn't seem to care.

'So you really liked university, huh.' She said, pulling out a copy of Blake's poetry and reading the inscription from Dr. Taylor, her thesis advisor.

'University was fun.' Kat replied, typing up the day's report on their shared laptop, and trying to hide her irritation. 'One of the highlights of my life; being out from under domineering parents, you know.'

'B.A.s, booze, and boys.' Mia laughed. 'And you probably got a lot of the last one, right Kat?'

She had, for a brain and a teenager. There had been boys; ones who disappointed on the first date, ones who didn't show their true intentions until the seventh date, and ones whom she used herself. And there had been other guys; friends…

'It was a chance to be around people who thought a bit more like me.'

'No one on earth thinks like you.'

Kat shrugged. There was no use trying to explain it to Mia; the Grad student was nice enough, but a little self-absorbed. She'd not understood what the problem was with having rich parents who would pay for anything, but didn't show affection. Or even really care that much about you so long as you were happy and out of their hair. Out of all the things that only "normal people" understood, that was the one thing—

'Who's this?'

Looking up from the laptop, Kat stared at the photo Mia had picked out of the box. It was the picture of her study group that had been taken in front of the old campus library. The twelve of them had become such good friends, they'd wanted to remember it, and had had the group photo taken. And she sat front row, center with Zack beside her, his arm around her shoulders.

'You never told me you snagged a cutie like that.' Mia grinned slyly.

'There's nothing to tell; we were best friends.' Who happened to sleep together once, but Kat wasn't about to tell her that.

'Best friends my ass; you two absolutely _ooze_ chemistry and sexual tension; I can see it plain as day.' She insisted.

'You can tell that from one picture?'

'I can tell that from the way you keep playing with that necklace you always wear. He gave it to you, didn't he?'

She could lie, and say it was from one of her old ex-boyfriends, or say that another friend had given it to her. Or she could tell the truth, and the whole story of her first Christmas with his family. And how they'd waited to exchange their gifts after everyone had gone home because she'd half-hoped one of them would say what was really in their heart, though they never did.

'Christmas gift; he and his brothers chipped in for it when I spent Christmas with them.' A half lie, but better than an outright one.

'And, so where is he now?' Mia asked.

'Washington, DC. He works at the Jeffersonian there, with Dr. Temperance Brennan.'

'The author???'

Kat nodded, and Mia started squealing with glee: begging her to convince Zack to send autographed copies of Dr. Brennan's books, and maybe even arrange for them to meet her when they got back to the states. It was so…immature that she could barely keep from laughing at the grad student. She didn't have a clue how the would—her world—really worked.

Picking up the picture, Kat thought of how they'd been so happy then, and only a couple of weeks later had been full of resentment and regret. She was still full of regret; over pushing him away and leaving things so broken between them. A quick conversation before boarding her flight, and emails could only fix so much. There was more she wanted to say, though Zack would probably never understand…

For a moment, she considered tearing the photo in two, and trying to forget. It could be so easy; one rip, and two pieces of glossy photo paper in the trash. But she couldn't forget; _wouldn't_ forget. Because every moment they'd had, from the one-sided fights to the most intimate time they'd spent together, she didn't want to lose that. She really did care for him—love him. And besides, she'd have to put up with Mia's questions for two and a half more years.


End file.
